


Neither Heir Nor Hero

by LigeiaMaloy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Canonical Character Death, Death, Despair, Drama, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, Forbidden Love, Guilt, Hanzo can use pretentious prose and so can I, Incest, M/M, Shimadacest, Shimadacest Week, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9412955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy
Summary: Hanzo returns home but since he left Hanamura, the land has fallen into a deep, endless winter and destruction came over the once wealthy city. The few remaining citizens speak of a curse. While the rest of the world might have stopped to believe in curses and angry spirits, Hanzo knows better. He knows what brought the curse over the home he left many years ago and it is his responsibility to end it - at the same place where once violence was more acceptable than feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Meh, I wanted to write this for [Shimadacest Week](http://shimadacest-week.tumblr.com/) but health prevented me. Not forever, though!
> 
> I enjoy this ship for so many reasons, one of them: There are so many ways to write about them, casual, funny, dramatically, sexy, smutty, or - in a pretentious fairy tale style, which is what I've wanted to do for weeks. Hey, it's Hanzo's point of view, don't tell me it's not in character! 
> 
> The result is a bitter-sweet piece about brothers, guilt, and dragons being in-between. Oh, and snow. Because, yeah. I love snow.
> 
> Also posted on [tumblr](http://ecstasy-of-overwatch.tumblr.com/post/156234436119/neither-heir-nor-hero-shimadacest)

He came home to a place that was nobody’s home anymore. Rich and wealthy had it used to be when he was born, pompous when he was raised, and decadent the day he left. His own bloody footsteps had sealed the prospering cities downfall. And now, the once golden child returned, hair and beard grayed and his face covered with the dust of the roads that guided him back, not to his home, but to the ruins of Hanamura.

The night was still an hour away and yet, the streets were empty. Hanzo Shimada stood still for a moment, listening for the ghosts of laughter and chatter, the people once roaming the place at this hour. Gone they were, gone and scattered memories blown away by the wind howling through the barren trees. Hanzo pulled his fur coat tighter around his throat and walked on, snow crunching under his soles.

Hanamura, the city of Spring, where the cherry trees blossomed until deep into summer, had sunken into a sea of snow and ice. How different the world was, only a voyage of a few hours away, with fields of green and flowers in full bloom and trees laden with sweet and juicy fruits. The world was turning to the songs of the seasons except for his old hometown, that had become winter’s sanctuary.

“Come in, wanderer. Come in and warm yourself.” A woman, her face covered by a woolen scarf, shoved the door of one of the few standing huts open just when Hanzo wondered if the people had found the wisdom to leave. But one didn’t leave what they’d cherished and known all their lives even when what it used to be was lying in shambles.

He nodded and followed her inside. His journey wasn’t over, his true destination wasn’t the city itself but it could wait. What hadn’t happened the many nights of the last decade wouldn’t happen tonight and he was in need of a rest and a story.

“I thank you, good woman. Sir.” Hanzo nodded at the man sitting by the fireplace who greeted him with a wave of his hand. The fireplace wasn’t more than an open fire by the wall, surrounded by bricks. The flames were the one thing merry in this little home that had been built from boards and loose bricks and a wall that hadn’t collapsed yet. It was poorer than the poorest house he remembered from the past but it sheltered him and his hosts from the snow and the wind.

“Thank you.” He sat down on one of the empty pillows by the fire, grateful for the cup she offered him. The scent didn’t give its nature away but it was hot in his hands and on his tongue and that was all that mattered.

“My, a fine animal, this one is. Have you seen this, Marnie? You need to feel it!” The man moved closer and stroke over the silken fur of the white wolf Hanzo was wearing. “How pleasant it must feel to be warm. Not that I’ve never known, my friend. Back in the day, I wore the finest and softest clothes. Mind you, with the short winter, I wasn’t in need of a fur as thick at this, but-”

“You’re rambling like an old man, Yosuke. Stop bothering him, he’s our guest.” The woman gave him a slap on the hand and he let go of the fur, not without one last longing glance. “Don’t mind him. He’s not half as old as he’s silly.” She shoved himself between Hanzo and her husband, holding a hot drink of her own. “Always talking about the old times as if they’re lurking just around the corner, this fool. They’re gone. Gone, I say!” Her hands clenched around the cup so strongly that Hanzo was relieved it was made of wood and not glass. She had pushed down the scarf and Hanzo took a moment to study her face while she was busy grumbling at her drink about the foolishness of men.

Neither she nor her husband was as old as he had thought at first. Cold and sorrow had eaten deep lines into her face and grayed both their hair to a white almost as silver as his coat. But the hints of youth weren’t gone, only put to an early rest and covered by exhaustion. They weren’t much older than him, late thirties, maybe early forties, and it was likely he had known them from another time. However, he didn’t remember and either they didn’t as well or they remained silent about the heir of the empire that once brought riches and prosperity to them.

“What keeps you in this forsaken place?” He pushed off his boots and held his feet closer to the fire. His numb toes were so cold they felt wet once the warmth crept through his skin.

“It’s our home and it had been good to us for many years. You don’t leave your home behind just because things are a little difficult.”

“Pshaw, a little difficult!” Marnie almost spat out her drink. “This place has always been a hell covered in sugar and diamonds and now, it has frozen over! And that cursed spirit is our devil! I wanted to leave years ago but this fool and his foolish friends won’t budge. Can’t leave them all alone on their own, can I?”

“No, you can’t,” Yosuke shot back. “Because you don’t leave what you love behind because it’s a little difficult. Besides, it’s going to change. It had changed to this years before and it’s going to change back. I know it. I just do.”

“Can you believe this man? We freeze and starve to death, yet he’s just the same old smooth talker.” Her voice had lost its edge and a soft smile brought the youth of the maiden she was inside to her weary face. Hanzo found comfort in Yosuke’s words and her smile. They’d stand their ground and survive together and no harsh storms or words would destroy what they had. With all the mistakes he had done in the past, he had ruined their fortune, but not their love.

But neither love nor passion fed an empty stomach and dying together, holding hands and each other’s heart lost its romance when the lovers were young and cold. Romance in death was for the old, who had survived the pits of despair together and had only one last adventure left.

Well, he couldn’t feed them, nor could he restore Hanamura to its former glory. But he wasn’t without power.

“Tell me, what is that spirit you were talking about? What does haunt your home?”

The pair’s banter fell silent so suddenly it felt like the words were falling to the floor, leaving a void slowly filling with confusion.

“It’s rare a stranger believes our tale,” Marnie finally said. “The world outside might still have its seasons but it, too, has changed. There doesn’t seem to be a place for spirits and hauntings anymore.” Yosuke gave a little laugh.

“And so they all come here, finding refuge in the hell that’s frozen over. Marnie, tell him the story. I’ll see if I can conjure us a bite or two. Talking about curses and magic always makes me hungry.”

“Do that. Very well. There is the spirit and there is this never ending winter and I swear, I don’t know which is the hen or the egg. I do know, though, it all began a decade ago.” And so she began the tale of Hanamura, telling Hanzo what he had guessed but hoped to be untrue.

*

The night was too cold for the walls to keep it outside. The fire flickered bravely and Hanzo was grateful for what little warmth it offered. The couple had shared pillows, blankets, even one spare mattress with him but not their closeness. Hanzo understood. It took the warmth of another human being, a friend and beloved, to survive in a place like this and he had chosen to be on his own. His fur did a decent job but it was as lifeless as the future of Hanamura.

At least, he would try his best to alter the last.

By dawn, the time had come for him to follow the path paved by rumors and legends. After a breakfast as meager as Marnie’s and Yosuke’s stories were rich, he thanked them and they spoke their goodbyes. As he returned to the street, embraced by the still howling storm, the weight of their lives was resting on his shoulders, a load he carried with more pride than dignity. Everything was harder when the fruits of his crimes had names and faces, or so the elders would have told him, but they were wrong. Names and faces were tied to fates, fates he could change, and thus, his journey gained a purpose behind redemption and regret.

They looked after him, his back felt their eyes burning through his skin. There hadn’t been words, hardly a knowing look between them, but they knew. There wasn’t a way to share hours of misery in a tiny space without understanding who he was and used to be. They knew why he had come and what was purpose for him was justice for them. He had brought the unyielding winter and if the world wasn’t completely consumed by irony yet and had a fraction of old-fashioned fairness left, it would be him who ended this period of snow and ice before it became ages.

One path led up the mountain. Spring had colored the grass green and the flowers pink, yellow and wild the last time he walked it. Now, the grass had died under the cold and flowers were mere seeds, buried and sleeping inside the ground, dreaming of days when the earth would turn into a nurturing mother instead of their cold grave.

There was a deep, innocent beauty in the widths of snow, white and untouched even by animals, for they had been wiser than the humans and left when the spring their instinct promised didn’t come. The wind couldn’t shake the snow quickly enough from the trees as only more and more snowflakes came, claiming the places of their predecessor. Yes, a beautiful sight it was, but all comfort of new life had been stripped from it by the cruelty of a circle of death.

Hanzo was rested, he was fed, and yet, his steps were heavy, his back weary. Year after year he had run away, always hoping to find an early end by a bullet or the blade of a sword while fearing death would release him too soon from his guilt. Only a year ago, his mind had begun to shape around an idea that promised true peace. When he had heard the first rumors of a city, once run by a single family and pulsating with life and wealth, and now buried under snow and despair as it fell victim to a curse.

Those who told him had laughed. For them, it wasn’t true, only the pleasant chill of an urban legend, as mankind needed to make up their ghosts because they had lost sight of those around them.

Hanzo had seen the rumors for what they were and while he was neither a curse nor spirit, he had been the summoner. That was the truth and the reason why he was still alive. He was the only one who could lift the curse he had brought over the people and with that, his own guilt would weaken.

He was aware how vain and selfish his cause was, so he smiled as he fought his way onward, he, a small, moving speck in an endless landscape of ice. From heir to hero, and all it took was a murder and innocent people living in misery.

The Last Grove stretched before him. That was how the children called it. Knowing nothing of higher places scattered over the rest of the world, this had to be the closest to the realm of the heavenly spirits. Elders had spoken of it as a sacred place woven by magic but the children believed it because they wanted.

How it had changed. How Hanzo had changed it, the last time in his life he had raised a sword and soiled the earth and his soul with the blood of his brother.

The first tree had shed its leaves the moment the body came to rest in the grass, other trees followed, leaves dancing around Hanzo, angry they weren’t sharp little blades. He fled, running away from the wrath of the spirits and leaving his grief and honor behind with his dead brother.

Now Hanzo had returned. Lush trees were no more. Wooden claws stretched towards the sky, accusing it in their anger, barren and leafless. He stood where his brother had fallen. In all these years, the body should have rotten, the bones turned to dust, nurturing new life. But the land had died with him and pulled a thick veil of snow over Hanzo’s shame and what he would find if the cover was lifted Hanzo didn’t know.

The wind grew into a storm. The sky darkened, hurling more and more snow at the silent man who dared to come back. Thunder crawled over him but drowned before it finished its threat.

A tremor shot through the earth beneath Hanzo’s feet and the deafening howl of a beast forced him down to his knees.

Hanzo pressed his hands over his ears but it was in vain. The howl was shaking his bones, claiming every fiber of his body.

“Genji! Is that you?” He screamed against the storm and the roars of the spirit beast. It came from nowhere and everywhere. Hollow and distant yet not weak. It wasn’t of this world but it could crush it with a swipe of its claws if it wanted to.

Lightning flashed. The trees shot further towards the sky, wailing how they had warned him to never return after his sin, or maybe it was just their shadows dancing and whispering the words Hanzo put into their shapes.

“Genji!” He shielded his face from the sharp blades of the storm with his arm. The roar became louder. Its force took hold of Hanzo and hurled him into the snow. He pushed himself up but the invisible strength weighed him down. He couldn’t give up now. With all the willpower that was left in him, he raised his head, the muscles in his neck threatening to snap under the struggle.

“Genji…” The air was colder than ice and he coughed when it grabbed his throat and tried to strangle him. But he caught a glimpse of the heart of the snowstorm. It pulsated above him, an angry whirl thick as smoke. In front of Hanzo’s eyes, it grew into the shape of a serpent. He blinked a few times but he wasn’t mistaken. A faint, green light flickered in its center.

Another roar upset the mountain and the trees trembled until the snow fell from their gnarly branches.

And the dragon came to be.

Its coils wounded through earth’s existence, mighty like a path carved into the stone of a mountain and subduing it as the strongest being in the world. Green scales were glowing golden in the light running through the dragon’s veins, pumped by a heartbeat powerful enough to turn thunder into a caricature.

“You came back. You dared to come back!” The voice of the beast was as unreal as its roars and as destructive. It wasn’t Genji’s yet it was him. “How do you like it, Hanzo? How do you like your creation?” The dragon’s voice echoed through Hanzo’s head as the words were only meant for him. The bellowing laughter was for the world, sending another storm over the land.

“Have you come to become a hero? To kill what is already dead?” The dragon threw back its mighty head, its shape and light flickering as it lingered between two planes of existence.

“I am not here to kill you, Genji.” His knees shaking, Hanzo forced himself to stand up, hissing through his teeth. He pulled his bow and quiver from his back and tossed them into the snow.

“The blood I spilled brought the downfall of Hanamura.” He stretched his back and lifted his chin in determination. The air he inhaled cut through his throat and lungs and he spoke clearly with what last pride he had. With my blood, it may rise again! So take it! Take what I owe you and let the people be!”

“I don’t want your blood!” The dragon’s giant talons slammed on the ground, punishing it with another earthquake. “And I don’t want your life! I’m not like you!”

“No, you aren’t.” Hanzo wanted to hurl the words at the monster his brother had become but the scorn died as he spoke them and a sudden sadness fell over him. “You’ve never been. How you must have hated me. Now, and the years before…”

“Hate? _You_ are speaking of hate? After you killed me, dear _brother?_ ” The dragon spat the word and it drilled deep into Hanzo’s mind where it settled down in the midst of a grief and regret that went back far further than the day Genji had died.

“I… didn’t want to… I never wanted it to end like this.” And tears shot into his eyes and a pain beyond grief and older than jealousy and disappointment burnt inside of him. “I never wanted you to die!”

“And that’s why you came here with a sword when I asked you to come and see me. Because you cared for your brother so much!” The storm calmed and the dragon’s voice, while still powerful, lost a little of its ghostly surreality.

“And you? Did you care for _your_ brother? Where were you when I needed you? When I was alone after father’s death and thought I could follow my fate as long as you were by my side?” Tears froze on his face and he felt his skin break beneath them. So many years had to pass before he could say what he wanted to say, even on that fateful night he had lost his tongue and let his sword speak instead. Suddenly too weak to live on with the burden of the truth, his knees gave in and he fell back into the snow.

“Forgive me, Genji. I failed you. Nothing excuses what I did to you. I failed as your brother. I only wish there was something I could do to free you of your wrath.”

He knelt in silence, the storm howling around him and slowly drinking up the warmth left in his bones. The air became thinner as the powerful presence of the dragons retreated and only a shadow almost as frail as Hanzo remained in this world of winter. Hanzo’s head jerked up, he gasped in surprise when cold fingers burnt the skin of his cheeks.

“I only wish you had come with me that night. I had to leave but I didn’t want to leave without you.” The dragon was gone and only Genji was there, his body bare and unreal, the long, red slash across his chest glowing against the white around them. But nothing glowed stronger than the gray of Genji’s eyes. Hanzo put his hand on his brother’s, leaning into the touch.

“And I had to stay but I didn’t want to stay without you.” He smiled when he heard his brother laugh. He had missed it after Genji was gone and cursed it the last years he was still alive. He had loved it too much and it was more beautiful than he remembered.

“Yet, you became the one who left while I was forced to stay behind. Why has it always been like that, brother?” He took Hanzo’s face between his hands, his smile warm as a fire. “All the years you scolded me, called me a disgrace to the family, I wanted nothing but us to be together. But you always pushed me away for who I was. What else was I supposed to do, Hanzo, then leaving? Either with a brother who loved me or alone, away from a brother who didn’t love me.”

Hanzo stared at him with wide eyes, his heart hammering in his chest with a strength that almost rivaled the dragon Genji had been only moments before. Genji laughed again and fell around Hanzo’s neck.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t belong in this world anymore, I’ve always known it. But I couldn’t let go. Not when I knew you were out there, far away from me. I thought I could get over you when I left Hanamura and the family but look at me! I couldn’t even get over you after I died through your hands.”

His embrace tightened around Hanzo. He felt the weight of his brother’s body but there was no life. Only the coldness of death.

“Forgive me, Hanzo. I couldn’t be the brother you needed because I couldn’t have you the way I needed you.”

“Genji…” If they had only talked. If they only hadn’t been shouldered with the burden of being fated to become leaders. If they only hadn’t been brothers.

His arms were stiff and hurt when he moved them around Genji. His brother’s skin was like ice when Hanzo buried his face in the nape of Genji’s neck. No cold possessed the power to kill the shy warmth he was allowing to rekindle inside his bitter heart.

“You were right. All of you.” Genji still laughed, he always laughed, even between sobs. “I am a disgrace. I’ve always brought shame to the family, and to you. Look at me now, Hanzo. Look at Hanamura. Despair tied me to our home but when I could have guarded it, I destroyed it. But this time, I got what I wanted.”

Genji put his hands on Hanzo’s arms and gently pushed them down as he broke free of the embrace. His form threatened to dissolve before Hanzo, he saw the trees behind Genji’s pale, bluish face. All his energy that kept him into this life shone in his eyes and even in death, they hadn’t lost their mischievous sparkle.

“You have come back. For the first time, my pathetic deeds brought you to me. Forgive me, Hanzo,” he repeated with the wicked grin that made Hanzo forget where they were and that death had parted their lives as brothers so many years ago. “Forgive me, but I have nothing to lose.”

He closed his eyes as he leaned forward and his lips brushed Hanzo’s.

“You’re beard, it tickles.” He chuckled, a shy happiness was glowing from within himself and for a moment, Hanzo saw Genji how he used to see him, youthful and full of joy, his cheeks pink with excitement and wide, gray eyes sparkling at him. The illusion faded but the memory remained, as did the feelings Hanzo had tried to hide so desperately from Genji. And from himself.

“Nothing to say about this, my brother? This is the moment for you to scold me. Don’t fear, I deserve it.”

Wicked young fox. That was what they used to call Genji, be it in disdain or with a smile. If Hanzo had gone with him that night, if he hadn’t feared to be close to Genji as much as to be apart from him, they could have wandered the world together and lived to the day when the young fox had become wise.

No, yearning for a fate that never was didn’t change the fate Hanzo had chosen for them when fear had overwhelmed him.

“I love you, Genji. Yes, I have nothing to lose either. As I’ve already lost everything.” All of a sudden, he couldn’t stop smiling. It had been so long since he had felt this light, almost giddy. All the worries while they lived under the same roof, while their father was still alive, the pressure and the guilt and now they were gone. It could have been so easy, only three words that were nothing but the truth, yet he knew he could never have said them even if he could turn back time to the day he had fallen for his brother.

“But there is something to say, something I don’t understand.” Hanzo laughed. The world was freezing and his home in shambles but in all this destruction, Genji’s disbelieving yet happy face was the most beautiful thing he had ever behold. He stroke over Genji’s cheek with stiff fingers that glided behind his head and took hold of Genji’s hair.

“A kiss so shy? When you always were the courageous one while I was the coward?” Hanzo pulled him close and claimed his lips with a kiss deep and passionate as the fire raging inside of him. He pushed Genji on his back and they both sunk deeper into the snow. Hanzo refused to feel the cold when there were Genji’s soft hair and his smooth skin. If he could only wrap his coat around him and carry him away.

“Why did we never say it? Why did we pretend we hate each other when this is what we wanted? When it could have been so easy?” Genji panted between two kisses.

“Because we are who we are. It takes a shattered world for pride to crumble.” Now that he was here, holding his brother in his arms and caressing his face, everything was clear to him. The past and the present revealed themselves for what they were and what they meant for the two brothers.

“Foolish pride!” Genji scoffed. “What is it good for? Nothing! Wasted years and lives. See what it made us do, to us, to those around us.”

“We have now. Our story is not over and the world can change again.”

“It’s going to be colder than ever before.” The happiness waned. Genji took hold of his brother’s hand, holding it with inhuman strength. “You have to leave, Hanzo. Fast! I should have sent you away sooner. No living soul is meant to touch what is left of me unless it comes with a sword and the wish to become a hero. You’re too close to death and if you don’t go, the cold will claim you.”

“Yes, I know.” Already, what was and what had been painted pictures of the future. There weren’t many paths to choose from left but there was no doubt which Hanzo wished to walk.

“Death is the last thing I’ve feared since our youth. Genji, will you have me? Together we can guard our home and protect those loyal to it. As we’ve always been supposed to do.” He moved their hands to his chest and pressed Genji’s hand over his heart. “Will you let me stay where I always belonged?”

For a painful moment, Genji remained silent. Sadness dulled his eyes and there was a hint of fear hidden behind it. The wind was howling with the force of a healthy winter, playful and free of scorn but still cold and cruel. Nightfall was creeping closer and soon, the world would be covered in darkness, as would be the path back to the city. Then, death would find many more ways to stretch its claws for the thinning thread that tied Hanzo to life.

“Dying in the cold would only turn you into a corpse. We’d be parted as if you went away breathing, only that I’d have to see your dead body lying in the snow, unable to become one with nature and finally disappear from my sight.”

“Then tell me! What do I have to do to tie my soul to the spirit of a dragon? There must be a way!”

“Don’t do this to me, I beg you!” Genji took hold of his shoulders, looking at him with imploring eyes full of pain. “First, you killed me, then, you teased me with your love! If you make me kill you now… Hanzo, I rather died that night than fighting back! I could never have done to you what you did to me! What have you done to me, Hanzo?” His voice died away and his hands slid from Hanzo’s shoulders on his own lap. “If you leave now I’ll suffer. There’s no escape for me. It is my fate to suffer through your hands, whether they kill or caress me.”

“I… I’m sorry…” Hanzo lowered his head. Tears fell into the snow and became ice. Genji was right. All he had ever done was hurting him, as if he was born to torture him and condemn him to a life and death of suffering. There was no escape for Genji and no escape for Hanzo.

“Does the guilt consume you, dear brother?” A thunderous voice of a dragon mocked him from above. “Or is it regret? What do you regret, that you love me, that you hid it from me, or that you showed me?”

“Guilt is my fate. And how can I not regret my love for you if all it ever meant for you was pain? I…” Hanzo clenched his fists until his knuckles were about to burst through his skin. Why? Why did something that was supposed to bring happiness only brought pain? Why did he only cause suffering no matter his choices? Why were they both hurting instead of finally finding a way to stay together? A flash of scorn heated his tears. He had always tried so hard, given everything, only wishing to do the right thing. Where was his reward? And why wasn’t there any sympathy for him in all this misery?

He inhaled sharply and released his breath as a growl, his face hard as stone and his eyes colder than ice.

“I wish I was never born.”

“So much hatred!” The dragon roared above him. The storm picked up, its unnatural strength howling over the country and ripping apart what it could snatch.

Hatred. Yes. That was it. Hatred, born from the love he felt for his younger brother. Hatred, consuming everything he was.

“Forgive me,” were the last words he heard before the dragon’s teeth snapped his neck.

*

“I forgive you if you forgive me.”

A slender shape was nestling against his own. Hanzo lazily opened his eyes, smiling at the source of the purred offer.

“How many more mornings do you plan to wake me with these words?” A tail covered in blue scales wrapped around a green one. The power of his spirit form was overwhelming the first time he had awoken and the pain that had filled his very being began to claim the new power. But Genji had been there. He had held him, loved him, begged him for days and nights to not repeat his mistakes. And then, suffering and injustice that tied his soul to the spirit beast between the planes faded.

They had tricked fate and found happiness in each other’s embrace.

“As long as there are mornings, I thought. Why, do you have a better idea?” Genji’s mouth nuzzled against his throat, playful teeth teasing him.

“I do.” He felt his brother’s form melt away. Hanzo let go of his dragon shape until his arms wrapped around a human waist and he could taste human lips. A warm breeze from the reality of the living brushed over them, carrying the scent of earth and cherry blossoms.

“I love you,” he repeated as so many mornings before they got lost in a kiss, and he would repeat it many more times as they would never be tired of it, even with eternity lying ahead of them.

 


End file.
